A Flowered Card

I sat on a ribbed floral couch, sandals deep in burnt orange carpet. It was dark in the room, not because the curtains were closed, but because the walls were boarded in the pre-2000s style. Next to me sat *Carol, my companion, in a red blouse and black cardigan, chatting. On the swivel recliner across the room sat *Julie, an older lady with curly white hair trimmed to her scalp and a red striped shirt. She rarely smiled, rarely talked. When she did talk, her voice was soft but forceful. Her eyebrows were constantly pulled together as if in impatience.

As Carol talked to Julie about vacations, volunteering, and the return of Carol’s son from Singapore, I thought of the first memories I had of Julie. Most were at church, one over the phone, and the visits Carol and I made.

At church, as she conducted the last hour, she was to-the-point, never gracing us with her smile, never making a mistake. She looked into the eyes of many women, making notes with her fine tipped pen, and speaking softly into the microphone. I was intimidated by her grace and style.

Over the phone when I would tell her we could come visit her in the evenings once a month, she told me plainly that evenings were difficult, but that she would allow it. To my apology, she would retort, “Well, I don’t like it, but it works.” I would hang up, blushing in embarrassment. Carol would comfort saying, “You know how Julie is.”

The visits Carol and I made were much the same. Julie would listen with rapt attention, rocking on her chair, rarely smiling, and offered her hasty opinion whenever there was silence. Thirty minutes on Julie’s flowered couch always felt like a very long time.

One day, I was surprised to find a flowered card from Julie in my mail box. When opened, I read her cursive script. She told me of her appreciation of my service in church, and that she had noticed my efforts. She said she looked forward to visits from me and wished me the best.

I was astounded. In my mind, Julie was not a person who wrote kind words on a flowered card. She was not a person who would notice the small doings of others, and compliment them for it. I was pleasantly astounded.

That card made me discover something that many people before me have already realized. People are not to be judged harshly based on a few encounters or memories. There is so much more to people than we know, and I am embarrassed that I had to learn this lesson yet again, at the fault of my own.

I was completely touched by Julie’s card, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. There the opportunity to be good is in everyone, and people choose that opportunity more often than we expect. I hope I can be one of those people, and follow the touching example of Julie.

*names have been changed